The Evolution of a Story
by mildlycontagious
Summary: Recent musings on how a story actually does make it from the writers' conference to the television screen produced this surrealistic tale.


Author's note: I have no rights over the intellectual property that is General Hospital

The Evolution of a Story

Guza sighed, "Look guys we have to keep the natives happy. Bringing back JJ and getting rid of that loser Greg Vaughan was a stroke of genius but we didn't count on the accompanying outpouring of LNL2 love."

Writer 1 whispered behind his hand to Writer 2, "That's cause he didn't think any further than his new hot bromance between Jason and Lucky. Do you know how many contrived scenes I have had to create to get those two into the same room together? Then I have to insert stage directions that they exchange intense stares for a duration of thirty seconds and manfully tear up at several points, which I must admit JJ is super duper great at doing!"

Guza ran his hands through his hair. His tie and shirt were both crumpled looking and there was an expression of distaste on his face. "Anyway, the upshot is that Becky asked us to write her pregnancy into the script and while I'm all for another who's the daddy storyline, I suppose there really is no conceivable way we can make Jason the baby's dad?" He looks around the table hopefully. His glance was met by a lot of studiously blank stares and a few frankly bewildered ones of the interns and a couple of new writers. "No, huh? Okay, well in that case, we better make it a legacy kid but here's the thing..." He pauses dramatically, "Let's extend the WTD aspect of it as long as humanly possible, whatta you say guys is that pure genius or what?"

Once again, he checked out the table occupants expectantly. There were a lot of enthusiastic nods of the heads, a few thumbs up and even a couple of weak claps from some overzealous sycophants.

Writer 14, who was new to the business and still idealistic, tentatively raised his hand. "Um, Mr. Guza, won't that be kind of tough, what with DNA tests and so on, you can tell paternity in utero these days. They would just perform a medical procedure and know the sex."

Guza stares at 14 baffled for a moment, his forehead creased as he tries to interpret what he said. Then he laughed a big jovial chuckle as he looked around at all the other writers watching him the way a rat watches a cat. "Isn't that just the cutest thing," he chortles, "Hey kid, you new here or what?"

Fourteen nods uncertainly, still not getting the joke, "Yessir."

Writer 3 takes pity on the newbie, "Look, Joel, what Mr. Guza is saying is that we'll have a plot point um," he breaks off and coughs, "That is a seminal storyline where another character for reasons of their own will bribe or blackmail the lab workers where the test takes place to falsify the results, got it?"

Joel didn't get it in the slightest and was actually thinking that it sounded pretty stupid and hackneyed. Still, he liked having a steady paycheck, what with a kid on the way, and so he just nodded. "Yeah, um got it," and subsided into an uneasy silence.

Writer 5 whose name was really Alex but everyone affectionately referred to him as Toady, piped up. "So, Mr. Guza," he said brightly as he carried over his boss' refill of soy latte, non fat, double cream with cinnamon on top and a biscotti on the side, "Who do you have in mind to mess up our star crossed lovers?"

"Huh?" Guza replied absently after taking a big swig of the drink and leaving a soy moustache as evidence of his gusto. He didn't really comprehend the question because at the mention of star crossed lovers, his mind had immediately gone to a hot sex scene between Jason and Lucky with Johnny unexpectedly finding them together.

"Oh," he said lamely, trying to hide the tell tale evidence of his daydream. "I guess it better be Helena since that witch has tons of money and nothing will stop her from plotting. Anyway, Constance has been bugging me to make her part meatier."

'This should give that dried up piece of jerky something to be happy about,' he thought disparagingly to himself. She reminded him of his _own _grandmother and that wasn't a happy thought.

Writer 10 spoke up. He had an immunity clause and couldn't be fired because he possessed a file that Guza wouldn't risk being leaked to the press. So, that gave him the unenviable task of occasionally performing a reality check. He had been writing for the show since the mid eighties.

"Hey, boss," he drawled, a cigarette gripped between the two middle fingers of his left hand. He managed to get away with a lot including not coming to most writers meetings and Guza devoutly wished he had skipped this one as well.

"Why would Helena mess with the DNA results? The kid either really is a Cassadine and she'll be over the moon about having another baby to sell to the devil. Or it's a Spencer and she'll shout that to the sky as well because she wouldn't want to pollute the lineage, especially not with Luke's spawn." He was supremely content with putting a wrench in Guza's less than well thought out plot but then what else was new? He inhaled deeply and then breathed out smoke directly into the copy girl's face, smirking all the while.

Guza frowned, not for the first time he desperately wished he actually was Sonny Corinthos. Then he would just quietly make Writer 10 disappear and that pesky file with him as well. The problem was that the idiot had a point. Helena wouldn't tolerate keeping the secret unless, unless…

"Eureka!" He shouted, jumping up out of his chair and swinging his arms wide and inadvertently KOing the copywriter girl who was in the process of both coughing and running from the room. He had everyone's attention now. They hadn't seen him this excited since he had told them all what a love fest it would be with the fans if they had Sonny shoot his undercover cop scum of a son, Dante

"What boss, what?" Toady, as always, lived up to his name, "You've had another attack of pure genius haven't you?"

Guza took a moment to smile benignly at Toady. He loved this kid like a son. Well, actually he thought he might be his son because he looked a lot like that redhead he had been seeing back in the day when he was no older than copywriter girl herself. She, incidentally, was currently lying on the floor and moaning and just generally getting in the way. Geez, the chronic lack of a true work ethic these days, it was heartbreaking!

"Somebody get her up off the floor will ya? And I want that copy delivered stat! Got it?" Sheesh, he _loved_ medical dialogue! It was the best thing about the show being called General Hospital in his considered opinion. "Yes, Alex," he intoned gravely all the while being completely oblivious to the cringing expressions, rolled eyes and secret nips of scotch that were occurring around the scarred oak table. "I am indeed inspired." He turned toward the table and expounded upon his idea, his thumbs securely anchored in his bright red suspenders. "See it's a win-win for Helena. Either way, she's going to make the baby out to be a Cassadine."

Writer 7 who was a mousy dishwater blonde raised a hesitant hand. "Mr. Guza, don't we write whether the baby is a Cassadine or a Spencer? I mean these are fictional characters so it's like...um not really up to Helena cause she's like um...not real…" She trailed off as Guza glared at her in outraged disapproval

He had fired people for less! She was just lucky that he was in a good mood. He made a mental note to have her officially downgraded to Writer 25 as there were only 22 writers on the show (including interns) that was indeed a serious demotion.

"Well, Gladys," Her name was Alyssa but he neither knew that nor cared. Guza spoke with ponderous gravity, "If you start thinking of them as only fictional characters," he was careful to make eye contact with everyone at the table as he spoke. It simply wouldn't do to have a repeat of that little episode from last year when he ended up in Shady...no, in the Howard Hughes Psychological wing of Cedars. "It becomes a limiting approach because then we don't understand what motivates them and without understanding what motivates them we can't write for them effectively. Everyone knows General Hospital is renowned far and wide for its excellent plotting, pacing and most of all stellar writing which is second to none not in the genre of soaps, primetime or movies..."

It was clear he wasn't going to shut up anytime soon so Writer 10 took it upon himself to perform an intercession. He really wasn't that much of an interventionist but he had a dinner date with a blonde a good thirty years younger than himself. He'd already taken his dose of Viagra so it was in his best interest to keep things moving along.

"Okay, Bob, we get it, the GH writers, namely you are above everyone except maybe Hemingway or Shakespeare." He was entirely unaffected by the menacing glower directed his way. "So, anyway, what exactly is Helena's rationale for accepting a Spencer into the Cassadine nest, isn't that rather the reverse behavior of a cuckoo bird?" He tipped his head inquiringly and waited for the head writer's response.

Bob nodded his head, as much as he hated Writer 10, he had to admit he knew how to cut to the chase. "Yeah, that is the beauty of it Ron," he said, grinning, his good humor restored after Glady's/Alyssa's inadvertent faux pas. "See she hates the Spencer's so much that she _wants _the kid to be a Spencer baby. She will raise it to out-Cassadine the Cassadines. Then when it's all grown up she'll send it like a heat seeking missile toward the Spencers and gloat when they are destroyed by the machinations of one of their own!"

He reclaimed his seat panting from exertion. Maybe he should think about getting on that treadmill his wife bought him for his birthday. He looked around the table barely able to mask his continuous need for approval even from underlings and flunkies. That's why Toa...ah, Alex was so important to him.

Writer number 16 was the first to break the stunned silence by applauding and this time the clapping was loud and sustained. The old man had done it again. It rang true, it was soapy and would work and keep them all writing for years to come

Writer 11, a boy with floppy brown hair, green eyes and glasses raised his hand timidly. "Mr. Guza, won't Helena, I don't know, be dead by the time this kid is old enough to accomplish this Spencer destroying mission, uh and Luke too?

"Kid, kid," Guza sighed theatrically, "What do you think SORASing is for?" He didn't say anymore then that, he didn't need to

"Ah," the kid collapsed back in his seat looking a little puzzled but deciding it was best not to say anything more.

"Hey, boss?" It was Writer 10 again and he was fuming though you couldn't tell it from his bland exterior. It was conceivable that there might have been a slight tell tale tremble in his finger as he knocked the ash tip of his cigarette off into the communal water pitcher. He hated that Guza consistently managed to pull his fat out of the fire at the last minute with these ridiculous saves that actually were pretty good exemplars of soap plotting.

"Yes, Ron?" Guza could afford to be magnanimous, he had won this round and they both knew it.

"How about if we up the ante?" Ron offered casually.

There was nothing but the restless kicking of his foot against his neighbor's chair to reveal his agitation. He was going to be late for his date but he didn't care. He was damned if he would lose face in front of all these punk assed, wannabe Emmy winners

"Well, what did you have in mind?" Guza prodded him with a malicious gleam in his eye. Ron never could think as fast on his feet as himself. It also didn't help that he had fallen off the wagon lately. He'd bet his best toupee that wasn't water in the glass sitting innocently in front of him.

"I was just thinking," he spoke laconically, enjoying the moment as the young un's watched the two elder statesmen play their leisurely but deadly serious game of verbal tennis. "That we could make it just that more twisted if we had Nicholas arrange to run a private DNA test of his own."

Guza looked at him in astonishment, "Why would we do that?" Had it happened, had Ron finally lost it? It was almost sad except that it was so entirely delicious and deserved. "If he knows the kid's a Spencer he'll…" Guza stopped speaking and a look of pure awe came over his face as he stared at Ron who tilted his head slightly and simply enjoyed the respect he had manage to garner from his old enemy. "Brilliant," he breathed out, "Absolutely brilliant." He looked around the table at the other bemused writers. "Not a one of you could have come up with that twist, huh? Without Ron and me this show would sink in a week. Guiding Light would be out doing us in the ratings!"

Writer 7 spoke for the first time since the meeting began, "Mr. Guza, Guiding Light was cancelled." Did the old man have Alzheimer's or something?

It was Guza's turn to roll his eyes as he said elegantly, "Duh, I know the fricking show's been cancelled. Geez were you guys all standing in the thumbs line when they were handing out brains cause you sure can text but thinking not so much."

Toady spoke up, he couldn't bear not knowing. "Mr. Guza what is the big idea about Nicholas running a DNA test? Won't it spoil your concept?"

Everyone around the table exhaled in relief. Toady had fallen on his sword for them and they were grateful though not enough to start calling him Alex. They all leaned forward breathless to hear Guza's explanation. Guza smiled benignly at Ron and waved at him to do the honors. After all, he'd earned it

Ron pulled on his ear lobe, shaking his head at the stupidity of this younger generation and commenced speaking. "See, Nicholas will get the results back and they'll be diametrically opposed," he looked at the blank faces around him and corrected himself, "the total opposite of what they were all told." Comprehension settled in and he continued. "So, at first he'll wonder how that can be and then he'll look around. By the way, Bob," he looked over at Guza, they were allies for the moment. It was like the old days before they used to stab each other in the back ten times before lunch. "I was thinking that maybe we ought to have Helena move in with Nicholas. It would provide her with lots of opportunities for overhearing conversations and manipulating outcomes. Whatdya think?"

Guza nodded his head agreeably, it was still his kingdom but he didn't mind indulging his old counselor as long as it was clear he'd chop his head off as soon as look at him. "Sounds good, Ron, real good. I was just thinking that same thing."

"So, anyway, Nicholas doesn't have far to look to find the culprit as his eye falls upon Helena. He confronts her and is all injured pride and outraged morality. Then Helena presents it to him as his one and only chance to keep Elizabeth in his life. So, voila we have another long enduring plot twist and deep dark secret that will burn up the canvas once it's let out of the bag some sweeps in the future when Liz is pregnant with her sixth child and living with Nicholas and Helena on Spoon Island..."

Writer Nine couldn't help herself, she had to know, "Will this sixth kid be Nicholas' or Lucky's?"

"Neither!" Guza and Ron answered simultaneously while shooting her identical looks of contempt. Where were these kids coming from these days?

"Parthenogenesis," is the single word muttered by Writer 8 but no one heard him.

Writer 13, an incurable romantic, chimed in, "Maybe it can be Zander's," she said dreamily."

Everyone at the table ignored her. Every time the topic concerned Elizabeth and babies she brought up Zander. Every time it concerned Robin and babies she brought up Jason and so it went.

"Well, with my unparalleled contribution to the overall theme of the Niz and LnL2 story that should keep us going until at least 2011. I suggest we adjourn for the day." Guza's munificent mood was still solidly in place. "After all, it's Friday evening and I bet you kids all have more important plans then hanging out here." He was almost paternal as he sat back in his chair and smiled at them.

Guza watched with sharp interest as Ron darted out the door, eager to meet his young blonde bombshell. He grinned to himself. He knew all about Tiffannii and she wouldn't be getting together with Ron tonight or any night for that matter. At this very moment, she was waiting up on Mullholland Drive for him at his little love nest. When he'd explained the differences in their stature on the television food chain she'd thrown dear, sweet Ron over without a second thought.

'Ah,' he thought contentedly as he slowly leveraged himself up out of his chair, 'It surely was good to be Robert Guza, it surely was."


End file.
